


Homecoming

by scholarlydragon



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Compromise, F/M, Pomegranates, Returning Home, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-29 01:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21146219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scholarlydragon/pseuds/scholarlydragon
Summary: Persephone returns to the Underworld with a plan and a painful compromise.





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jessy for editing helps!

My hands are fisted on the smoothly worked prow of the boat as though I can will it to cut faster through the dark water. Once more, I curse the fact that I cannot fly over the river. Even if my endurance could last long enough to carry me over the expanse of the Styx, power older than the gods prohibits crossing by any means except Charon’s boat. It makes no exception for impatient goddesses.

My eyes strain toward the far shore. Among the milling beings, every flash of movement becomes a flutter of black robes, a glint of silver-white hair, or a glimpse of blue skin. I need to see him, and dread it. Will there be anger in his eyes or yearning when I step out of the boat? Will he even be there? The uncertainty eats at me.

The sound of an amused chuckle blends with the lapping of the Styx and I turn to glance questioningly at Charon.

The wizened boatman smiles at me as his pole cuts smoothly through the inky river. “That’s at least the fifth time you’ve sighed since we started this voyage, my lady, and we are barely off the shore. I promise, I’ll get you to him as quickly as I can.”

My eyes go wide, betraying my shock, and Charon chuckles as I start to protest.

“I don’t- I’m not-”

He shakes his head, his expression one of gentle fondness. “You have no need to lie to me, Persephone. For millennia, I have seen the same look on shades straining to see loved ones on the other side. I can always tell those for whom my boat could never travel fast enough.” Another soft splash of the Styx accompanies his words as he pushes the boat forward and his voice is gentle, “The two of you put on a good show of… professional distance when you left, but I could tell immediately that the boss was sweet on you. Even if I’ve never seen him look so sad.”

My gaze turns back to the far shore as if drawn by a lodestone, unable to bear missing a first sight of Hades even as the memory of leaving, prompted by the boatman’s words, tears my heart anew. For six months I have had to live with the knowledge that the last time I saw Hades it was fresh from an argument. To be sure, neither of us had wanted to have my leaving marred by anger, but we had each handled our own grief over the separation poorly.

Hades had been adamant until the last moment that there had to be some other way to handle things, some way that could have kept us together. But I know my mother. If she had decided that she would starve the earth in grief to bring me home, to take me away from him, then nothing less than having me back in the mortal realm would satisfy her.

To be sure, the earth was starving.

The intake of souls had spiked. Nothing too dramatic at first. A few more souls than anticipated, arriving on the Beach as dazed as the rest. At first, Hades had attributed it to forecast error. Even after the numbers continued to rise. After all, there had been no wars planned, no acts of wrath. There had been no applications for plagues. But then the shades had kept coming. The influx of souls swelled past the point of anomaly. Past the point of overlooking.

Hermes and Thanatos had been questioned.

My heart twists as I remember the tearful look on my ebullient friend's face. Even Thanatos, normally lazy and self-interested, had been shaken. They told us of withered crops and fallow fields. Of mortals growing gaunt and wasting away. Of frantic prayers to the goddess of the Harvest who remained indifferent to their pleas.

Cautious investigation had borne out the truth of it. My mother, after voicing her disapproval of Hades to me, and encouraging, then exhorting, then raging at me to return home, to leave him, had done the unthinkable.

She had turned my love for the mortals, for their brief, effortful lives, against me with an ultimatum. I had two choices, each one resulting in a sacrifice of what I loved.

Hades had raged. Demeter had refused to see him, to see either of us, without the result she wanted. So, we had turned to finding some way to circumvent her. Only there hadn’t been one. Even Zeus had tried to intervene, only managing to have the door slammed in his face.

As time wore on, with more and more undeserving victims of my mother’s wrath descending to the underworld, we had struggled to find some solution. Discussion had become argument and patience had frayed. Neither of us had been willing to give in, but… Even now, months later, the ache to take back what I said sends a shiver down my spine and a groan from my lips.

In a moment of frustration, Hades had exclaimed that even if every mortal descended to his realm, what did it matter? They would have only ended up there anyway.

I’ve gone back over that moment a thousand times. I know it was a desperate searching for answers to an answerless problem, the sort of frantic brainstorming when exhausted and there seems nothing left. At the time, I’d only been able to hear a seemingly callous dismissal of creatures I cherished. A discarding of the fact that everything they strived for was snuffed out because my mother disapproved of the man I loved. .

Frustrated with him, myself, and my mother, I’d blurted that he had no empathy for the dying mortals. I’d demanded to know how he could set aside his love for me and what I held dear and only think of filling the ranks of shades at his command. 

The hurt on his face in that instant had been as sharp as any I’d ever seen. Small wonder. I knew full well that he had been working to understand the mortals better, to appreciate them and their short lives. I knew that I had inspired that in him. I knew in that moment, as clearly as if I could see straight to his thoughts. Far from setting aside his love for me, it was all that drove him.

I had drawn breath to apologize but, as quickly as it had come, he had hidden the hurt behind a distant mask. He’d remarked coolly that, though the mortals would end up in his kingdom anyway, I clearly had no wish to stay and that he would no longer stand in my way.

If gods could die, I believe the pain would have killed me in that instant.

I hadn’t expected him to come with me to the Beach but, ever the hospitable gentleman, he had escorted me from his realm as cordially as he had brought me into it, though this time I walked instead of being carried. With every step, I had ached to throw myself back into his arms, but he’d remained coolly distant and I’d been too fragile, too worn down, to risk a rebuff. 

“So how did you manage it?”

Charon’s voice startles me from memory and I turn to look at him, brow furrowed. “Manage what?”

Another splash of the Styx sounds before he answers.

“My lady, everyone knows of what your mother did, but I _ saw _ it. Starved mortals- old, young, babes in arms, killed off by a mother’s jealousy. ‘Tisn’t my place to question the acts of one of the Six, but that was an ill-done thing.” Charon shakes his hooded head in disgust and falls silent for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. “At any rate, it seemed that if, well… if Lady Demeter was so set on having you back, there wasn’t much that could change her mind.”

The heavy weight in the hidden pocket of my chiton reminds me of the gamble I am taking, of the risk if I’m wrong. I’d spent the summer in frantic search for anything that could take me back to the Underworld. To him. Careful queries and furtive research yielded thin hope from an ancient, forgotten law and I could do nothing but grasp it. Hermes had smuggled a letter to the Underworld for me, but I’d had no reply. All I could do was hope that he would be there to meet me and harsh words hadn’t ruined the best thing that ever happened to me.

“I found a way,” I murmur softly in reply, and Charon doesn’t pry further. In truth, I am reluctant to voice my plan before I can fully enact it. As though the Fates might hear the words and decide that I am reaching too high.

Though I can’t quite shake the feeling that, after the last six months, they owe me a favor...

As we near the shore, the distance closing painfully slowly, milling beings part and my breath catches in my throat. Hades is there, standing tall amid the bowing shades, regal as the king he is. I have not seen him in six months, not spoken to him except by smuggled letter, and my heart skips beats as it did the first time I saw him. Skips a beat, in truth, as it did every time I saw him, every time he touched me with a crooked smile and earnest, clumsy, unpracticed affection.

There is nothing of the clumsily affectionate god in him now, though. His expression is cold. Distant. Polite disinterest at best. Sharp spikes of fear pierce me. Is he- is what we had- lost to me now? 

Charon expertly guides the boat to the pier and moors it, then offers me a hand to step out. Once on the solid, ancient stone, I fight the urge to fidget, folding my hands demurely in front of me. I have no idea what to say to him, or what to do with myself. All I know is that I ache to run to him.

The silence stretches interminably. Six months of near silence and words spoken callously in frustration and anger hang between us.

As though sensing the strain, the shades find elsewhere to be. There is nothing much for them here on the Beach as they become acclimated to the new reality of their existence, but they withdraw from the palpable tension between gods. Finally, I can bear the silence and his distant gaze no longer. 

“I thought you might not come.” I ache to bring the words back as soon as I blurt them, almost as much as I ache to run to him. On the journey from home to here, I considered what I might say to him a thousand times. I’d hoped to not sound so achingly… _ vulnerable. _

The distant mask flickers for a moment, but it looks for a moment as though he will remain the aloof, taciturn king. My heart sinks. I have just enough time to begin to contemplate the journey home, even the thought of it piercing my heart. Suddenly, as though his resolve dissolves like sand in the river behind me, Hades crumples. 

“How could I not?” he whispers, as his shoulders sag and his face twists into a painful expression of grief, hope, and love.

He holds out his arms to me and, as my own resolve splinters away to nothing, that is all the invitation I need. Suddenly, I am running, dashing across the distance between us as though I can erase it and the six months of miserable loneliness that separated us. My feet know where my heart belongs and I cover the distance between us as though it is nothing. As I impact his chest, he catches me into an embrace so tight I fear it might crush the breath from me. I don’t care. At the moment, I can’t even care that I still don’t know if my plan will work

I am back in his arms again.

I press my face into his himation, the silken material caressing my cheek, and inhale his scent. Woodsmoke and a clean scent, sharp and cold. I want to lose myself in the feeling of his embrace, the feeling of his chest under my cheek.

That chest and his shoulders hitch and I realize he is crying quietly into my hair, whispering my name again and again in a choked, broken voice. Lifting my head, I cup my hands over his cheeks, brushing away the silver tear tracks with my thumbs. In his scarlet eyes is all the pain and love that fills me. He tries for a moment to speak and whispers after he swallows.

“Forgive me?”

I shake my head, a smile on my lips and my own tears slipping free. “Hades, there is nothing to forgive. Or, if there is, I must beg equal forgiveness.”

His mouth opens as though he would respond, but then his eyes go wide, looking around. Though the shades have withdrawn, they still watch us. A glance over my shoulder confirms that Charon watches as well, leaning on his pole with a knowing grin.

He begins to step back and panic washes through me. I know what he’s doing. We spent the entirety of our time together before I left hiding the truth of us from the realms. He’s trying, however belatedly, to preserve our secret. After six months apart, however, I cannot stand the idea of holding him at arm’s length. Besides, if my plan works, everyone will know soon enough. Trepidation gnaws at me as I tug him closer once more. 

“Don’t. Please.” My voice is a whisper as I burrow into the inky fabric of his himation once more. After a heartbeat of still surprise, Hades tucks his arms around me again.

“I won’t,” he murmurs, combing his fingers into my hair, scattering the blue flowers that had appeared the moment I had started back to him, hope weighting my pocket and trepidation in my heart. “What happened, sweetness? How did you convince her to let you come back?”

I inhale deeply. Now is the moment of truth. I’ve been heartened somewhat by his welcome, but what I’m about to suggest is a far step beyond where we had been. I’m about to as good as ask him to marry me... 

Forcing myself to lift my head, I look up at him. His white hair falls into his face in that endearing way and I cannot resist the urge to tuck it back behind his ear. His eyes close at the caress and he turns his head to kiss my palm, almost as though he can’t help himself.

“I…” My voice is faltering, hesitant, and I take a moment to firm it before I go on. I can’t- _ won’t- _present this weakly.

“I researched all summer. I was… desperate to come back to you.”

A look of pain fills his gaze. “I’m so sorry for what I said,” Hades whispers. “I should never have-” I lay a gentle finger against his lips.

“I shouldn’t have either. Like I said, I need your forgiveness, too. But let’s save that for later when we don’t have an audience, hmm?” Giving him a crooked smile, I tilt my head meaningfully at Charon and the shades. Hades gives a small smile and nods. I forge ahead.

“I found something of a loophole. Some ancient law of Olympus trying to interpret the will of _ ananke _. Ultimately, it was discarded as inadequate, but some functionary failed to clear it off the books.” I pause and take a fortifying breath, my heart near pounding out of my chest. “The law states that, if the love of a king eats fruit of his realm, they are bound true and no one may separate them. There is some addendum that the length of time they are bound is equal to what is eaten. I think it was supposed to be some sort of justification for concubines or something, I don’t know.” He’s looking at me with wide eyes and I’m rambling. With a deep breath, I force myself back on track. “The important thing is that I convinced my mother that by law of Olympus, I am bound to you due to having eaten the fruit of your realm.”

I can see the wheels turning in his head and I wait, my heart in my throat. The very moment he realizes what this means is clear on his face and the heart-breaking look of love and hope brings tears to my eyes.

“But…” His voice is a whisper as though he cannot bear to refute the possibility I’m offering him. “Nothing grows here. You _ haven’t _ eaten the fruit of this realm.”

With a smile, I reach into the pocket of my chiton and pull out the pomegranate. It is a stunted thing, pale and splotched instead of a vibrant red. But, it is a fruit of the Underworld.

After I had told Hermes of my plan, he had mentioned the scrawny tree to me. He’d told me of idly dropping seeds as he’d eaten a pomegranate while flying on his duties between realms. The seeds had been forgotten almost immediately, as was the Messenger’s tendency, until he’d noticed the sapling sprouting, against all odds, in the twilight land at the brink of the Underworld. In the borderland between life and death, just enough life endured to grant me hope.

When Hermes had brought me the fruit, I’d wept.

I held up the fruit and tucked it into Hades’ hand. “It’s fortunate you have a contract Messenger with a tendency toward sloppiness. Because of Hermes, this grew just inside the Underworld. It is a fruit of your realm.”

His hand trembles under mine. “So, you only need eat this and you can stay?” His voice cracks and a tear traces down his cheek as his thumbs split the thick rind. Despite the blotched appearance of the fruit, the arils are crimson and perfect.

I stay his hand for a moment, though it rends my heart. He is so eager, I cannot bear to tarnish it. The same eagerness fills me. But he needs to know the tradeoff. He needs to know the compromise at he is- that we are- making.

“My mother believes I’ve already eaten the fruit of your realm. Otherwise, I could never have come back. But there’s a reason I waited until now. I fear that she will only starve the earth again without me there. I cannot abandon the mortals but just as much, I cannot abandon you, abandon _ us _.” I take a deep breath. Here is where I fear he will balk but I have no solutions to objections he might raise.

It is this or nothing.

“I waited until after the harvests were in because I proposed to her that I will spend half the year here with you and half the year in the mortal realm. I told her I’d eaten six seeds, one for each month of a half-year. Even if she lets harvests go fallow while I am gone, I will help the mortals grow once more when I return.” My voice chokes on tears. “Hades, I don’t want to ever be apart from you, but I cannot allow her to kill the mortals in some kind of twisted retribution.”

His lips settle over mine, stilling the flood of pained words, and I let out a small cry into the kiss, throwing my arms around his neck. His tears mix with mine as he kisses me for the first time in six months and I could so easily lose myself in this moment. But I need to know if he agrees to this solution I’ve found.

Pulling back from the kiss with effort, I whisper, “I can’t bear the thought of either thing, Hades. This was the best compromise I could think of.”

“Six months apart is better than an eternity.” His voice is choked with emotion. “I accept if it means I get to have you with me.” Plucking a handful of glistening arils from the pomegranate, he offers them to me.

My heart pounding, I accept, biting down on each seed as it passes my lips. The juice is as bitter as reality, as sweet as hope. Once I’ve eaten all six, he draws a juice stained finger over my lower lip.

“If you are bound to me,” he whispers, “I can do no less than bind myself to you. This pomegranate might have grown here, but its seeds are of the mortal realm. It is a product of both realms. As are you. I cannot spend six months in the mortal realm, but these seeds will represent carrying your bond with me as you carry mine with you.”

He places six seeds in the palm of my hand, both of us trembling. This feels momentous, as though we have tapped into some unknowable portent. The law I found was a failed interpretation of _ ananke _, but what if the Fates engineered this all along? So much about us has seemed too extraordinary to be true and now this fruit with its bruised and imperfect rind hiding exquisitely perfect seeds happened to be available when I needed it?

As I feed him the arils one at a time, I know it doesn’t matter. _ Ananke _, machinations of the Fates, or sheer luck. All that matters is that we are together.

As the pomegranate falls from his hands to the pier with a dull thud and a scattering of seeds, and we are in each other’s arms once more, a swift pain pierces me at the thought of separation in six short months. But this too doesn’t matter. Not truly.

Right now, we have a plan. We have hope. Most importantly, we have each other.

Nothing else matters.


End file.
